“You look lonely,” said the moon.
“Alone is not the same as lonely,” said the little boy, swinging his feet. “Not the same at all.”
“That is true,” agreed the moon, for she always spoke the truth. “And you are only one of those things.”
The little boy stopped swinging, for he was a clever little boy who often heard more than what was said. “I’m not alone here?” he queried, looking all around.
“You are not,” said the moon, glowing brighter with her words. “Your friend is waiting.”
“I don’t have friends,” dismissed the little boy, swinging his foot again. “And I don’t see anybody.”
“Then you’re not looking hard enough,” said the moon. “Perhaps you aren’t very good at it?”
The little boy scowled and sat up straighter in his swing. “I’m too good at it,” he replied, for there was a reason he was out here all by himself.
“Hmm,” said the moon. “Well, some looking is harder than others,” she acknowledged. “And finding a friend can be the hardest thing of all.”
“Who’d want me for a friend?” asked the little boy. “‘Only an idiot’, apparently.” He sniffed. “And why would I want to be friends with an idiot?”
“Oh, I see,” said the moon, her light dimming somewhat. “And do you believe everything that others tell you?” she asked. “Or only the things you fear to be true?”
The little boy fell silent. “What’s it to you, anyway?” he asked, after a while.
“Oh, nothing really,” said the moon. “You’ll meet one day, whatever happens - that much is written far above my orbit.”
“You’ve been up there for over four million millennia,” said the little boy, for he had not yet deleted astronomy. “Why do you care about a few human years?”
“The answer’s in the question,” replied the moon.
The little boy was quiet for a long time.
“Because you know what it means to be solitary,” he said.
And he jumped down from his swing.
Gorgeous artwork from xxxxxx6x, reposted in a group with kind permission. You can find the originals here: Sherlock / John / Together